No Cake Until You Talk
by Chocolmel
Summary: "I saw the world through black and white, through letters and numbers, through math and logic. Contrary to popular opinion, this didn't make me boring. Just exceptionally bored." An insight to L's childhood, life at Wammy's and all events leading up to the making of the world's greatest detective.


**Hello world and welcome to my new story, or should I say L's...**

**Iv'e always wondered what happened when he was first brought to Wammy's so I tracked him down and took him prisoner. It took awhile but under the threat of 'no cake until you talk' he grudgingly told me this. **

**Don't worry, L is perfectly fine (while in the midst of cake heaven) and we should be able to get the second chapter up and running soon! **

**Disclaimer: I know own death note, I no own L... Or do I?**

* * *

I saw the world through black and white, through letters and numbers, through math and logic. Contrary to popular opinion, this didn't make me boring. Just exceptionally bored.

What was the point of watching the movie if you already know the ending?

What was the point of reading the novel if you already figured out who did it?

What was the point of praying for your mother when she obviously wasn't getting any better?

Most people call me indifferent. I like to think of it as tragic.

* * *

"We're here." I think those words were supposed to be welcoming; instead they filled me with a strange sense of dread. Not the usual _I got a bad grade on my math test (_not that that had ever happened to me) but an odd quizzical feeling that lingered in the back of my mind.

I cast it aside; it wasn't logical.

Instead, I stared up at the large church-like building that would be my home for the next ten years, until I turned 18. It was okay, nothing grand or homey, but I suppose it would suffice for now.

"This way." The driver, an old balding man who seemed to have a thing for two word sentences, gestured to me. I followed, simply for the lack of anything better to do.

The reddened sun was just beginning to set, casting shadows that threatened to leap from every shaded tree.

All the more reason to follow the gentleman. Logical or not, I wasn't a huge fan of the dark. I suppose it probably had something to do with the fact that when I was younger and 'misbehaving' my stepfather would lock me in 'the room' for hours on end. No food, no water, no lights. (But that was just a hunch).

The man led me across the courtyard, long grass looking sickly yellow in the pale golden light. I could see no evidence that other children occupied this area. No toys littered the lawn; no bikes were propped up against the side of the shed.

The place seemed forlorn, neglected, empty. The last place I lived wasn't exactly Disney land, but still, it was livelier than this place.

I gnawed on my thumb, a strange quirk I had developed since my mother's passing, as we pushed past the large, imposing iron gates and a simple wooded sign that read; Wammy's house.

I wondered if the old gentleman who led me up the front steps was Wammy, but it didn't pique my interest enough to ask. Having the answer wouldn't benefit me in any way so I kept my mouth shut as usual.

"In here." The man pushed open the heavy double doors, revealing a large foyer, staircase, and an abundance of closed doors. The walls were dusty, covered in ugly pealing wallpaper and askew paintings.

The place looked as though it was run down, not a home suitable for living. I wouldn't have been surprised if no electricity existed.

But then the chandelier flickered on, dim pale light still burning my dark grey eyes.

"In here." The man repeated, placing his hand so that his gloves barely touched my shoulder. I flinched. Seemingly to not notice my discomfort, the old man knocked twice on a door and waited for a reply.

"Come in." The door creaked open.

A man, around the same age as the one who led me here, sat at a lone wooden desk that was the only furniture in the large study. (It must have been a study or office, although there was no trace of any books).

One window behind the man and his desk was cracked open so that the chilly October air invaded my personal space, blowing through my hair, and barging into my thin coat, leaving me shivering and breathless.

"This is him?" The man asked, not seeming to want the answer.

"It is." My guide replied, setting his briefcase down on the desk. He dusted off his long trench-like coat and turned back to me. A small smile graced his lips, causing his eyes to squint up behind his spectacles.

"All set?" He asked me, heading towards the door to the office/study.

_No. _I wanted to say, _I'm not. _

Roughly ten hours ago when I had first met him, I wanted nothing to do with the strange old man wanting to offer me a replacement life. Now, given the choice, I would have followed him anywhere, long as he didn't leave me behind.

But I could not ask this of the man whose identity remained a secret. So I merely nodded and turned my gaze to the dusty floor.

"Goodbye then." The kind man smiled, turned around and left.

The man behind the desk glared at me as though I were a dirty puppy his son had brought home without approval. I wanted to whimper.

"7" The man muttered suddenly, no kindness in his voice. It was stern, business like. "That's your room number. See if you can't find it."

I dipped my head and backed out of the room almost tripping over the suitcase that had been carried in my driver.

"Leave that here." The man behind the desk commanded. I did as I was told, shutting the door and entering the empty hallways alone. It wasn't until after I had found my room, dusty and white, that I remembered that neither man had asked my name, and I hadn't offered.

* * *

**Penny for your thoughts?**


End file.
